I used to be a good girl. I lived for my studies, behaved well towards friends of both genders and to strangers, never put a foot wrong. Okay, I had lost my virginity, but it was uninspiring, and left me cold, and I discouraged the boy from contacting me again.

I think it was largely due to my pubic hair. Thick and dark, it covered almost my entire pubic region, and I struggled to cover it all when I wore a swimsuit. It seemed to retain moisture like nothing else, and felt cold and dank to me, and totally unsexy. If I ever started to get aroused, the liquid seeping from my vagina would quickly soak into my bush, and make me feel disgusting, putting a quick dampener (excuse the pun) on any feelings I had. I am not sure if it smelt bad afterwards too, but the thought certainly played on my mind and made me feel worse.

That all changed at a 17th birthday sleepover for my best friend and classmate Kirsty, a slimline blonde with a chest I am sure I was not the only one to envy. We had a lot of fun, played games, indulged in some technically illegal drinks supplied by her parents… and late on, the conversation inevitably turned to matters of a lewd nature.

I was surprised to learn that most of them very much enjoyed sex, of various types, with multiple partners, but I let it slide. Just thinking about it made me feel the beginnings of that familiar discomfort between my legs.

As dawn approached, we suddenly realized that Kirsty had not opened her presents, so we gathered round excitedly while she ogled the pile of packages assembled for the occasion. Then she began to tear at them with zeal. Most of them were predictable – films on Bluray, clothes, some tickets to a popular group playing at a nearby arena, and so on – but one surprised us all. It was a large box, maybe shoebox sized, and it had swooshes and swirls of pink and white all over, making the writing actually irritatingly difficult to read. “What is it?” I asked in confusion.

Kirsty, already somewhat flushed from the occasion, the warmth and the drink, turned almost scarlet. “It’s… a pubic shaver. I insisted my mum and dad get it for me. It costs, like, five hundred pounds, but I’ve had bad results with other shavers, and this one has incredible reviews online. You can’t be too careful, y’know, down there.” She was not wrong, I thought, imagining the itching, chafing and even cuts I had experienced with bad underarm shaves, but in my extra-sensitive crotch area. I added my voice to the chorus of agreement.

Well, nothing would do but that Kirsty be made to try out her new gift immediately, and the five of us soon pressured her until she caved. She took out the device, all smooth plasticky curves and shiny chrome, fitted the batteries, and flipped the switch. We all giggled excitedly at the loud, yet somehow gentle, buzz that emerged from it. Sarah took it from her, took her hand, and led her to the bathroom.

We couldn’t resist listening outside the locked door as the machine buzzed away, changing in pitch every now and then, eliciting stifled giggles from us. Kirsty’s breathing became heavier, interspersed with gasps and the odd moan, and finally one long groan that sounded anything but pained. It seemed pretty clear what had just happened, and we whispered excitedly to each other, enjoying the titillation of this illicit show.

Soon after that, the buzzing stopped, and the two emerged. Kirsty was flushed and breathing heavily, but had a huge grin on her face. We closed the door, and began the process of convincing her to show the results. It didn’t take long, she was rather proud of her new, bald pussy. She undid the cord of her dressing gown and it pooled on the floor… and it was amazing, like no hair had ever been seen around that crotch area. From blonde eyelashes down, she was all smooth, pale, firm young skin. Her vaginal lips protruded, slightly puffy but not at all uncomfortable-looking, from the innocent teen slit. It was luscious, and despite never having thought of myself as either lesbian or bisexual, it was somewhat enticing to me.

“Did it hurt?” asked Jessie, the youngest of us.”

“No,” Kirsty shook her blonde head. “Quite the opposite, if anything.” She had a wicked grin on her face now.

“Did you… Did you come? It sounded like you were having fun.”

Kirsty hesitated, then nodded slightly. “It’s the vibration. And the gentle touch. Sarah seemed to know exactly how to handle it.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Once I had a quick look at the instructions, it was totally intuitive. I bet anyone could do a good job with this thing. No wonder it’s so expensive!”

Then the conversation stopped. For a moment, it seemed like nobody quite knew what to say next. Or rather, everyone knew what they wanted to say. I am sure I was not the only one building up the courage to ask if I could touch it. I was just about to raise my voice, though, when there was a noise from the front door.

Everyone scrambled. Kirsty threw on her dressing gown as we all settled on the duvets strewn around the lounge, and she had just managed to tie the cord when the door opened and her dad’s head popped through. “Dad! Knock!” Kirsty cried, turning and stamping her foot in irritation.

“And a good morning to you too, my dear. Are your friends ready to go? Their parents will be here to pick them up in a few minutes.”

I glanced at the clock, and sure enough, the agreed conclusion time for the party was almost here. We all groaned our disappointment, but Kirsty’s father was brooking no argument. He stayed long enough to be sure that everyone was moving to pack up and then, just before leaving, he said to me, “Oh, Rachel, your dad texted me to say his flight is running late. He won’t be here for another hour-and-a-half.”

I nodded. It had always seemed like a potentially risky idea coming straight from the airport to collect me, but I was in no mood to complain, as it meant I could spend a bit longer with my best friend.

The others left one by one, and Kirsty and I retired to her bedroom. Kirsty threw her stuff, including her new gifts, onto her bed, and the shaver rolled off to sit on its own, separate from the pile. I could not take my eyes off it. “What’s it like, having no pubic hair,” I asked?

“You mean you have never tried it?” she asked back, incredulously. “You must! It feels so much better. Especially now, with this new shaver. I feel like a star.”

“A porn star?” I asked, jokingly.

“Well…” she surprised me by responding. “All I am saying is, you should definitely do it. Now all my hair is gone, I am never, EVER going back to the way it was before. In fact…” She reached for the shaver, and pointed imperiously to a spot on the carpeted floor. “Sit. And spread your legs.”

I was about to resist, but there was something commanding about her. She seemed to have a new confidence since she had emerged from that bathroom, and I found myself automatically obeying her. When she instructed me to take off my white cotton panties, I did so without thinking. She looked at my thick bush, and tutted. “This will never do. Let’s get rid of it.” She laid down a sheet of newspaper under my legs, and got to work.

As soon as the device touched my skin, just below my belly button, I flinched. It was not painful, it was just surprising. The vibration rumbled through my skin, stimulating it for centimetres around. Kirsty paused, but I nodded at her to continue. She slid the shaver down, and hair seemed to slip off my skin as if it had just been resting there unanchored. She went to either side, then lower down, stripping thick curls wherever it went.

The stimulation was also definitely getting to me. A tingling became a heat, which became a pulsing need. Kirsty’s gown had fallen open, exposing her perfectly bulbed breasts whenever she sat up, and the dressing gown draped appealingly over her rounded hips when she leaned in close. Her warm breath on my crotch was suddenly the most intense feeling I had ever experienced, and as an up-stroke touched the top of my vagina, it tipped me over the edge.

Pleasure spread through my body, starting at my nethers and rolling outward. It was all I could do to stop myself from bucking as my loins took fire. “Oh, God, YES!” I whispered, touching the back of Kirsty’s blonde head, and she looked up to me with intense eyes and a wicked grin.

A short while later, she was done. To my astonishment, there was no stubble, no greying from the roots of my dark hairs, just child-like smoothness. Kirsty put down the shaver, but stayed where she was, about 6 inches from my vulva. Unlike hers, it did not protrude, seeming like just a short, smooth slit in my skin. “You have a beautiful pussy,” she murmured, and before I could respond, she leaned forward and kissed it. I gasped, but it felt so good that I smiled when she looked up, and nodded. She nodded back, stuck out her tongue, and started licking with fervour.

It was incredible. She would tease apart my vagina lips with her tongue, find the nub at the top, and suck it between her glistening lips. Then her tongue would dart across, stimulating back and forth on both sides of my labia. Then she would dive in, her tongue penetrating deep between my folds and curling around in a way I had never imagined before. Then she started the cycle again.

For a while, as her golden head bobbed in my lap, the only sounds in the room were occasional slurps, but slowly two sets of heavy breathing came into the mix, rising in volume. My breath became gasps, then quiet moans, and eventually a final short shriek as my second orgasm in 20 minutes or so hit me. I could not resist grabbing the back of Kirsty’s head and pressing it deep into my bald cleft as I bucked and rode the high, my naked bosom heaving (I could not remember taking off my top and bra, but they were all the way across the room now). Then I fell back to lie on the floor, my breath labouring through my widely grinning lips.

Kirsty emerged into view on top of me, and her lips planted on mine. Our tongues duelled, and I realized that I could still taste myself on her. It wasn’t the sour, stale flavour I had always feared, but sharp and tangy. “I could get used to this taste,” I thought.

To Kirsty I said, “That was incredible! Where did you learn to do it so well?! You’ve not… done it before, have you?”

She shook her head and kissed me again. “Just a couple of videos on the internet. I never even thought I would try it myself, but it just came naturally.”

I laughed. “That it did. And now it is my turn to return the favour.”

Kirsty’s face let up with excitement, but doubt was mingled in too. “Do we have time? Your parents won’t take forever.”

“Oh, it won’t take too long. After all, you are halfway there already, aren’t you?” I touched her slit, as smoothly perfect as mine and, sure enough, it was soaked with the moisture that seeped from within.

Suddenly, there was a knock and the door. We both froze, but it didn’t open. Instead, the voice of Kirsty’s father came from the other side. Evidently, he had borne her earlier words in mind. “Are you girls okay?” he asked. “I heard a scream.”

“Yeah,” we chorused, trying to sound bored. “We’re fine,” I added. “I just trapped my finger in a drawer. It surprised me more than it hurt. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well okay, but you two tell us if you want anything, and we’ll bring it in for you, okay?”

“Thanks dad,” Kirsty called, staring deep into my eyes, “but I think we have everything we need in here.”

His footsteps receded, and I took the opportunity to roll us suddenly over so that I was on top. I did my best to copy what Kirsty had done to me, adding a couple of motions that I thought I might have liked. Her appreciative noises were music to my ears, and all the encouragement I needed.

In the end, we had more than enough time, and we even managed to add in a third act. With our left legs over each other’s right, we pressed our naked pussies together, and rubbed back and forth, a motion I have since found out is called ‘scissoring’ or ‘tribadism’ (thank you, internet). We knew nothing of this, it just seemed right to bring together the gifts we had just given ourselves. It also allowed us to stare into each other’s eyes, feeding on our mutual excitement. It was strenuous work, moving our whole pelvises and lower bodies back and forth like that, but the sensations it brought were more than worth it. The exercise caused us to sweat buckets, and our firm teen skin glistened in the early morning light shining through the window. It seemed as if the lubricant from our genitals had spread over our entire bodies, as if we were both nothing but huge erogenous zones. Every slippery touch, every caress, was a sensory feast. We came for a third time together, our mouths pressed to each other’s naked shoulders to prevent the noise which would alert the adults downstairs.

“Happy birthday,” I whispered ironically in her ear as we basked in our tight joint embrace – her nipples pressed against mine, our vaginas gently leaking onto our teen thighs – and the post-coital bliss that each of us had found.

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